


Not today, not tomorrow

by stjarna



Series: Season 5 spec fics / coda / missing scenes [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Angst, F/M, Missing scene 5x08, angst with hopeful end, spoilers for 5x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Missing scene post the May-Fitz flashback fight in 5x08. Jemma talks to Fitz about what Robin told him... and what Robin told her.





	Not today, not tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.

“Fitz?”

The word echoed through the corridor accompanied by Jemma’s footsteps. She opened the heavy door to the life-support control room. Once again she called out his name, ignoring the hissing and rumbling of the pipes and machines around her. She rounded a corner and relief washed over her when she saw him sitting on the floor, his legs pulled close, his arms resting on his knees, his head hanging low.

“Fitz,” she exhaled, her frantic heart finally calming down.

He looked up slowly, his blue eyes gazing back at her, tired and sad.

Jemma’s lips ticked into a pained smile. “What happened, Fitz?” she asked quietly. “May said you ran off. She said Robin upset—”

Jemma paused when Fitz pushed himself up to standing, his body tense, his hands trembling. “She saw your death!” His voice was unsteady, on the verge of breaking, filled with fear, anger, despair. His eyes shimmered behind a curtain of tears. “She described your death, Jemma.”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma whispered, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

He wrapped his hands around her wrists, shaking his head as tears began snaking down his cheeks. “I can’t, Jemma. I can’t lose you.”

“That’s not true, Fitz.”

“Yes, yes, it is. I can’t… I can’t—”

Jemma pressed her palms more firmly against Fitz’s cheeks. “Yes, you can!” she said sternly. “You don’t want to, but you can!”

“No, no, I—”

“Fitz,” she interjected, trying to keep her voice calm. “I don’t want to spend a day without you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t even want to imagine it, but… but we will die. We will. All of us. Whether it’s today, or tomorrow, or fifty years from now. One of us will die, and the others will live on, and… and—”

He didn’t reply, his silent face contorting as more watery trails glistened on his cheeks.

“You once told me you couldn’t live in a world that didn’t have me in it.” Jemma smiled sadly, her thumbs caressing Fitz’s cheekbones. “And part of me loves how deeply you love, with all your heart and soul and mind.”

The corner of his mouth twitched barely noticeably.

“But it also scares me, Fitz. It scares me to think that you would… you would give up, stop living, stop fighting.”

He shook his head, sadness shimmering in his tear-rimmed eyes. “I can’t… I don’t know—”

“Promise me, Fitz.” Jemma stared at him. “Promise me that if I die first… IF I die, you’ll keep living. You’ll keep living and loving and caring and fighting—”

His head kept moving side to side in silent protest, but Jemma felt more determined than ever.

“Promise me, Fitz, because—” Jemma paused, her eyes welling up as well. “—Because we need to keep living, and loving, and fighting for us and for our baby, and if one of us dies, then the other needs to keep on going… our child needs that, our child deserves that!”

She noticed his eyes widening, searching hers as his breathing became fast and shallow.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile. She pulled her hand back, reaching for the back pocket of her trousers and pulling out the folded up drawings. Carefully, she unfolded them, handing Fitz the first one. “Robin gave me this this morning,” she said quietly. “And then I ran a few tests that confirmed it.”

Fitz’s hand trembled as he stared at the drawing. It was still childlike, stylized, but clearly showed a pregnant woman with brown, wavy hair, hazel eyes, a wedding band on her finger. He looked back up, his eyes questioning and his chin quivering. He wet his lips, as if he wanted to say something, and yet he seemed lost for words. His gaze wandered back to the drawing then back to Jemma.

Jemma smiled, placing the second drawing on top of the other, waiting for Fitz to grab it. His brow furrowed as he looked at the four figures on the piece of paper, a woman and a man standing in front of the familiar design of the time machine they’d been working on, and two children slightly to the side, the older one holding on to the younger one’s hand. “She gave me that one too,” Jemma explained. “She said she was watching Daisy, so we could work on the machine.”

A sob escaped Fitz’s lips. He squinted, a tear dropping from his lashes onto the paper. “Daisy,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Jemma asked, quietly. “And look—” She pointed at the small child in the drawing, looking at Fitz, waiting until his gaze briefly met hers before wandering back to the image. “Look how big she is. I’d say at least four, five years old.”

Fitz’s eyes met hers and a weak smile flashed across his face.

Jemma reached up, squeezing Fitz’s shoulder. “I won’t die today, Fitz. I won’t die today, or tomorrow, or the next day. And neither will you. Whatever Robin saw, whatever she described, it’s not time for that yet. We have years. Years to see our daughter being born, and growing older, and teaching her and loving her and working on a solution. And when our time is up, then somebody else will keep on going. Maybe she will.” Jemma lay her hands on her stomach. Fitz’s eyes followed her movement, before looking back up.

The corners of his mouth ticked up and his eyes glimmered with a shimmer of hope. “Daisy,” he repeated.

Jemma nodded. She stepped closer to Fitz, snaking her arms around his neck, her fingers gently playing with his soft curls. “So will you promise?”

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. He nodded ever so slightly, before pressing his lips against hers, soft, warm, and tender. “I promise,” he whispered, his eyes still misty, but not laced with the same despair as before.

Jemma pulled him closer for another kiss, noticing how his body relaxed, tension leaving his tight muscles.

Fitz sighed when he broke the kiss, tucking Jemma’s hair behind her ear, while his other arm remained firmly curled around her waist. His thumb stroked back and forth across Jemma’s cheekbone. “I promise if—” He closed his eyes, an anxious breath escaping his nose as a tremor rushed through his body. Then he looked back at her, inhaling deeply. “I promise if you die first, I’ll keep living, and loving, and fighting for everything we’ve worked towards and for her.” His gaze dropped to Jemma’s midsection, and slowly, he moved his hand down to press his palm against Jemma’s stomach. He looked back up, a smile lingering on his lips as he once again cupped her cheek, closing the gap between them, brushing his lips against hers. “But I’ll also fight every single day to not let it get to that point.”

Jemma smiled widely, her fingers combing through Fitz’s hair. “Well, that makes two of us.”


End file.
